Sprawled on faded flaccid couch,
she snores guttural gumpfs and wheezes.
A warped pendulum creaks . . . shudders . . . stops . . .
clock face sags in disrepair.
Rodent feet in plaster-dust slippers
scurry inside flaking walls.
Spotlight dims. Floorboards creak.
Vamp sounds of decay.
Enter Death as curtain falls.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Quadrille Monday (a poem of 44 words – not including the title – no more; no less). Today Victoria is hosting and asks to use the word “sound.” Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time! PS: after a wonderful month + trip that included a TransAtlantic cruise and cruises through the Norwegian Fjords, Iceland and Ireland, it’s great to be home! Enjoying my regular early morning writing and reading time again.
Shadows tread in life’s past.
Embers gleam red passion,
pale to ashen grey.
Ship wakes sink into oblivion.
Sand dollars, once much more.
posed in serious countenance,
fade frozen in corroded frames.
Vestigial pock marks upon the earth.
Life marches forward
into the past.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. April is national poetry month so drop by to imbibe some words with us – or better yet, step up to the bar, no prompt on OLN. It’s an opportunity to share as you wish! Bar opens at 3:00 PM Boston time. Photo in public domain.
Endings pivot to less beginnings
emptiness beside waking self.
someone’s last dawn
awakens another’s grief.
Photo taken in Provincetown, MA, on Cape Cod.
Christmas lights flicker
like memories this time of year.
Snow falls quietly
somehow ignorant of her pain.
Dedicated to all those who have difficulty this time of year . . . facing personal challenges, illness, grief, or loss. And remembering those who are no longer with us to celebrate this holiday season.
And her spirit shall live within the sea
immortality within its ebb and flow.
Ashes tossed from sandy shore catch wind,
float quietly ‘neath shifting clouds
sink, adhere to anemones
and sail on dolphin fins.
Her smile illuminates in lunar path,
glistens under golden sun.
And generations shall feel her touch
toes stepping, leaping within her waves.
The earth moved, an aperture in time.
Tectonic plates shifted within her soul
left behind an open space,
a void within her life.
She stood above where he lie.
Moist grass licked her ankle bones,
feet planted firmly as she stared down,
eyes a spiral, boring deep and deeper still.
And when the summer storm came
she gently lowered herself,
a prostrate form upon the mound,
to protect him from the pelting rain.
She imagined his shape beneath hers,
tucked her arms close in beneath her chest.
Face resting upon the stone
she felt the granite, cool upon her cheek.
I love you always she whispered.
And lying still among the tombs
lying with him once again,
she felt his love within her heart.
Did you hear the winds rustle that day?
Metaphors soared on the backs of gulls.
Thousands of unused words,
ideas not yet writ,
wended their way into the night sky.
A poet’s earth journey complete,
she lives now, forever beautiful,
among the shimmering stars.
Quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse as Grace asks us to use the word “journey.” dVerse is celebrating its fifth anniversary this week. Link up to join in the celebration!
Written in memory of poet Viv Blake who died suddenly on July 5, 2016. Photo taken while in Portland, Maine this past June.
Slivers of stardust
Stairway to heaven
lightens the way.
Talk to me not of death and fear
as time stands by and waits for me.
For I must leave you now my dear
these last few steps for me alone.
So as I lie with sleep so near,
harken my dear and you shall hear
celestial song and angels’ wings,
their comfort meant for you they sing.
Let go your hand, let go your tears
and tell me please that I may pass.
Take comfort in our childrens’ care
our love lives on, embodied there.
Written for dVerse, Victoria minding the bar, asking us to write in meter, creating a particular mood. Very new to me — meter = stressed syllables. Trying to achieve meter without sacrificing the sense and flow of the words. I’ll be honest. I find this very taxing and difficult. But — I’m happy with how this turned out, and I think it’s in trochaic tetrameter: 4 stressed syllables in an 8 syllable line. Always learning with dVerse!
swing it round, this way, now that
walk quietly in forest glen
seek movement in grasses tall
watch, scope, carefully
blood spills, rounds and rounds
one load’s cacophony of death
deer and pheasant, field to table
smiling faces, club to grave
Quadrille using word “spill” written for today’s dVerse. Also written in response to the Pulse Club Massacre. Fact: same type of semi-automatic weapon used in the Sandy Hook shooting. There are reasonable steps that can be taken that do not dismantle the 2nd amendment.